All That Glitters
by PippinDuck
Summary: QLST:NG crossoverSam leaps into Data. What can he possibly be there to change in the future?
1. Chapter 1

"All That Glitters"  
by Jennifer L. Rowland  
(originally written April 4, 1995)  
  
Usual disclaimers apply---the characters of Quantum Leap and Star Trek: The Next Generation are not my creation and all copyrights remain with Universal/Belisarius/Paramount/Roddenberry  
  
There was the sensation of floating in the bright blue-white light of what he could only term limbo. His consciousness tenuously held on to the perception of his body. Where, when, who would he end up when the limbo gave way to the reality of another time, another life far beyond the New Mexico caverns which housed Project Quantum Leap. Ever so briefly, snippets of the lives he had Leaped into to correct some error which disrupted the continuum of the-way-things-should-have-gone crossed his mind. When would he return to his own time, see himself in the mirror? When would he be able to truly interact with those in the life he used to know--the life that seemed so distant now, literally separated by time and space?  
The bright light abruptly gave way to the physical sensations of being thrust into someone else's life. The answer to his questions was obviously "not yet."  
Sam Beckett found himself sitting at an extremely complex panel in a chair designed both for efficiency and extreme comfort. An almost imperceptible thrum filled the air, accompanied by the melodic chirp emanating from the panel before him. Sam looked closely at the panel. It appeared to be a very sophisticated computer--perhaps even more so than Ziggy, the revolutionary computer he had designed that made Quantum Leaping possible. Ziggy was the first of its kind, created from neurocells donated by himself and his best friend and colleague, Al Calavicci. But how can I be seeing a computer more advanced than Ziggy? This technology must be decades beyond our capabilities. How can I Leap to a time after I started Leaping?  
His thoughts were interrupted by the realization that he was not alone. Looking to his right Sam saw a man and a woman dressed in very close-fitting black uniforms accented with panels of blue and gold material, respectively. He looked down and saw himself dressed in an identical gold and black jumpsuit. Unfortunately, the unisex styling did not provide much help in determining whether he had Leaped into a man or a woman. Sam turned his attention to trying to figure out exactly what he was supposed to be doing at this computer.  
A small screen displayed a chart of the solar system. Sam breathed a sigh of relief that he was merely dealing with astronomy, but caught himself when he realized that he had never before seen this system--and it was definitely not one that included Earth! "Zyros," he read off the screen. He spoke louder than he had intended, attracting the attention of someone behind him. The someone walked over, casting a shadow over him. Sam looked up--and up--past a massive chest clad in gold and adorned with an imposing heavy metal sash to a stern dark face. Sam blinked as he took in the face--it culminated in a menacing bony-ridged forehead. Sam swallowed hard. "Oh, boy," he whispered.  
  
******  
  
"What have you found?" asked the deep, gruff voice one would expect to emerge from the fierce looking being towering over Sam, who felt particularly tiny in comparison, seated as he was.  
Sam decided it might be best to state the obvious. "Zyros," he repeated, pointing at the chart. Judging from the snort which greeted his response, he had obviously decided wrong. But instead of pushing the issue, the massive figure turned and went back to a station behind Sam, muttering, "Tell me something I don't know." Perhaps it had not been the wrong response, after all. It appeared that whoever he had Leaped into had a propensity for stating the obvious.  
Loosed from the scrutiny of attention, Sam turned in his seat to take in the sights behind him. His jaw dropped as he saw an immense screen displaying a vast starfield dominated by a bright pink planet. With effort, Sam tore his gaze away from the hypnotic screen to acclimate himself more thoroughly to his situation. He was seated at what was obviously the back station of this lab, or whatever it was. He looked just below the viewscreen at two strategically placed stations and amended his conclusion. The stations gave the impression of driving controls; obviously, he was not anywhere stationary. Sam pulled his gaze back, dwelling briefly on the large, muscular back standing perhaps six feet away at a rail station. Sam's eyes followed the curve of the rail down, peering to see what lay below. He caught a glimpse of three heads--a dark, curly one, a bald one, and a short dark-haired one.  
A clipped British accent shattered the silence. "Mr. Data, take over at Ops, please." The woman sitting at the front-left station coded a sequence into the long panel before pushing it away from her, then swiveled to the right to exit, pausing uncertainly. Her eyes flickered to the center seat. The voice spoke again, annoyed this time, "Mr. Data." As every eye stared painfully at him, Sam realized that he was "Mr. Data." Hurriedly, he jumped from his seat and strode down the ramp to his right. The woman's shoulders relaxed as he stepped onto the lower level. She glided past him and strolled up the ramp he had just left. Sam crossed to the now vacant seat, still feeling the weight of every stare on his back. He stared helplessly at the panel before him.  
The clipped voice spoke again. "Mr. Data, what is the matter?"  
Sam turned to face the owner of the voice, a stern yet kind-looking bald man, trim in the ubiquitous black uniform, his accented with red. To his right sat a younger, amused man with a beard dressed identically. Not quite, amended Sam. He noticed a series of pips at the collar. The stern man had four while the bearded man only had three. Great, thought Sam, the military. He prayed that Al, a retired Navy admiral, would appear and coach him through this. Judging from the number of pips and central location of the stern man, Sam concluded that he must be the leader. But what branch of the military? The title would vary, and after his last blunder, Sam did not want to attract any more attention to himself.  
"Uh, my mind was somewhere else. . . sir," he replied. That was certainly true. "My apologies," he added. The answer seemed to satisfy the man. Sam relaxed, gratified that he was not the center of attention any longer. Or was he? The owner of the dark mass of curly hair, an extraordinarily beautiful woman seated to the leader's left, stared intently at him. Can she see me for who I am? thought Sam in a panic. But she was neither a small child nor an animal. Then why is she staring at me? Knowing he would not be able to get an answer, he turned once again to the complex series of lights before him. Well, I'm at my station, now what? Sam studied the panel, trying to decipher its meaning. Lacking the training of Data, whoever he was, Sam was not having much success. Even as he focused his concentration on the computer, he was still aware of the woman's intense gaze. He tried to drive her scrutiny from his mind, but could not. The cause of her focus on him remained a mystery. The mental pressure her stare placed on him led Sam to peek tentatively at her. She met his eyes boldly, almost in challenge.  
If he were Al Calavicci, he would have stared back defiantly, demanding that she reveal the meaning behind her obsession. However, he was not the bold Italian, he was Sam Beckett, product of the Midwest. He turned back to the panel, fervently wishing for the hologram form of his best friend. Al, where are you?  
  
****** 


	2. Chapter 2

Al Calavicci was, in fact, standing before a door leading to the Waiting Room of Project Quantum Leap. He was waiting, rather impatiently, for Dr. Verbeena Beeks to give him the sign that a new consciousness had arrived. Al dreaded the first moments as the people realized they were in an unfamiliar place, in what seemed to be an unfamiliar body. They invariably screamed in terror. That scream, more than Verbeena, told Al that a new consciousness, or soul, had taken up temporary residence. He had braced himself for the shock of the scream. He was not, however, prepared for Verbeena's emergence from the silent Waiting Room.  
"What? What's wrong?" he demanded.  
"The first person not to go into hysterics at the shock and you want to know what's wrong."  
"Dammit, Verbeena, you know that's exactly what I mean. They always scream. Why didn't this one?" A sudden hope flared within him. "Is it Sam?"  
Verbeena looked sad. "No. But, Al, you need to come in now. He wants to speak to the person in charge. He's very rational about the situation--I'd almost say pleased."  
"Pleased? Anything else I should know?"  
"He says his name is Data," said Verbeena.  
"Data? Is that a nickname? Data what?" asked Al.  
"He didn't say, and I didn't want to push. He wanted to know where he was and why he wasn't aboard his ship. He wanted to speak to whoever was in charge. He must be military, Al. Anyway, he got distracted by the mirror. Al, I've never seen anyone react so calmly to seeing Sam's reflection. Since he sounded military I told him that I'd get you, and that you were an admiral." Verbeena looked towards the door. "I want you to talk to him now."  
Al nodded and walked into the Waiting Room--and promptly took a step back. The neurolink Ziggy facilitated between him and Sam allowed him to see the person in Sam's body--and Sam in whatever body he was in. Al had seen many people inside his friend's body, but never any as shocking as this. The familiar body shielded a brown-haired man with unnatural gold- white skin and yellow eyes! For diplomacy's sake, Al forced himself to focus solely on the exterior of Sam Beckett's body, which was presently engaged in running its fingers through the sandy brown hair with the single lock of white hair, and grinning excitedly.  
Al walked forward and caught the visitor's eyes in the mirror. Sam's body turned to greet him. Unlike most visitors, this one did not react at Al's attire, which tended toward the unconventional. Currently, Al was wearing a multi-colored earthy shirt with rusty pants. A rust-colored jacket with geometrically cut lapels and a shimmery copper tie completed the ensemble.  
Remembering Verbeena's remarks about the military, Al strode forward to introduce himself. He offered his hand to lessen the formality. "Hello. I'm Admiral Calavicci. Dr. Beeks says you'd like to speak with me."  
The visitor took Al's hand, eyes widening at the contact. "Lieutenant Commander Data. Admiral Calavicci, where am I? And how did I come to be in this body?"  
Al glanced at Verbeena. In the pause Data asked, "If I may sir. I hope I do not offend, but I have no record of an Admiral Calavicci currently serving. . ."  
"Well, I'm retired," Al interrupted with a smile.  
Data paused, as if absorbing this new information. He cocked his head to the side. "I have no record of an Admiral Calavicci having ever served in Starfleet," he said.  
The smile on Al's face faded. "Starfleet?" He looked at Verbeena again. "Oh, boy," he sighed.  
Verbeena picked up the conversational ball. "Okay, Mr. Data. Let's see if we can't find some answers for you. What is the last thing you remember?"  
Data's face grew thoughtful. "I was sitting at the aft science station. Captain Picard had asked me to scan the Zyros system." He stopped speaking as he registered Al and Verbeena's expressions.  
Verbeena hurried to cover their surprise. "And then what happened?" she prompted.  
"And then I found myself here. Is this a medical base, Dr. Beeks?"  
"So to speak," she evaded. She paused, unsure as to which avenue of conversation to follow.  
"I think we can drop all this formality and go with first names," said Al, trying to avoid the awkward silence. "I'm Al and this is Verbeena."  
"I am Data."  
Al blinked. Only one name? He tried another tack. "Okay, Data, maybe you could tell me about your ship. Her name and registry, you know." At Data's silence he added, "Maybe we can figure out how to get you back there."  
It seemed to be the right thing to say. Data at least did not take it as a form of espionage, perhaps in concession that they shared a common goal. He answered, "U.S.S. Enterprise, Galaxy-class starship, NCC-1701-D."  
"Oh, God." Al paled. Either the man was totally insane, which was unlikely, considering his "real" appearance, or. . . or Sam had Leaped far beyond his own lifetime. His reaction did not go unnoticed by Data.  
"Al?"  
"Yeah?" He was still in shock. Verbeena was not much better.  
"What year is this?"  
Al looked at Verbeena, who closed her eyes and nodded.  
"Data, what year is it for you?" asked Al.  
"2335," he answered.  
Al took a deep breath. "Data, I don't know how, but you're in the year 1998."  
The fact that the hitherto unflappable Data seemed equally as shocked was no consolation.  
  
******  
  
Al barreled into the Control Room. "Ziggy! How the hell did Sam end up in 2335?" he yelled.  
The computer's voice was tinged with puzzlement (one of Sam's ideas). "I am as confused as you, Admiral."  
"Apparently he's on a spaceship!" continued Al.  
"Actually, the term used was 'starship,'" corrected Ziggy.  
"Who cares!" ranted Al. He was waving his arms wildly, as was his wont when he was frustrated. "He's in space for crying out loud. He's Leaped way beyond his own lifespan, and he's not even on the same damn planet! Where the hell is Zyros anyway?"  
Ziggy sounded contrite. "Our scientists haven't discovered it yet."  
"Oh, great. How are we supposed to find him?" Al shouted.  
"I am currently working on that, Admiral."  
Al threw up his arms, knowing there was nothing he could do. He turned to leave, pausing when he noticed Gooshie waving at him. He walked over to the short man.  
"What is it, Gooshie?" he asked.  
"Verbeena just called. She wants you back in the Waiting Room," said Gooshie.  
"Tell her I'm on my way."  
Al walked down the hall, pulling a cigar from his jacket pocket. He cut and lit it. The first pull calmed him, a little. He rapped sharply on the Waiting Room door. Verbeena pulled it open. Being an African- American, she wasn't able to pale, but the shock showed through her eyes clearly enough for anyone to see. Al lowered his cigar. "What is it?" He looked past her to see Sam's body staring into the mirror.  
"What's wrong?" he repeated.  
Verbeena stepped into the hall, closing the door behind her. "You're not going to believe this, Al," she said.  
"I already don't believe this! What's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost." Although, thought Al, his "real" appearance is pretty ghostly. Fortunately for Verbeena, she lacked the dual vision of Al's link to Sam. He shuddered to think of her reaction then.  
"Al, he's not human," Verbeena was saying.  
"What?"  
"Al, he says he's an android."  
"You mean he's a machine? Ohmigod--Sam!"  
Al took off for the Control Room at a dead run.  
  
****** 


	3. Chapter 3

Sam stared at the bright pink planet on the viewscreen. He was no closer to figuring out how to work his station. And that woman kept staring at him! He could feel it. Surely these people had to take a break sometime. He still had no idea what he looked like, although he was fairly certain he was male. He looked over his shoulder yet again. Yep, still staring. What is she thinking?  
Her scrutiny had not gone unnoticed by the captain of this ship. "Counselor Troi?" the captain asked.  
The woman turned to her right. "Yes, Captain?"  
"Is something wrong?"  
Troi glanced back at Sam before answering, "No, sir."  
The captain was not giving up so easily. "First Data's acting strange, now you? What's going on?" He looked from Sam to Troi.  
Troi smiled at the captain, whose name Sam still didn't know. "Just preoccupied by the mission, I suppose."  
The captain seemed to accept that. Sam started to relax when the captain turned to him and asked, "Mr. Data, what have your scans revealed about the Zyros system?"  
Sam was debating how to respond when Al popped in next to him.  
"Sam! Thank God--I wasn't sure we'd ever find you. Ziggy tried everything." Al looked around. "Good Lord! What a ship!" He caught sight of the massive being at the rail. "And what is that?" He looked at Sam. "Don't try to answer me yet . . . but you better answer the captain-- he's looking pretty ticked. What did he ask you?"  
"Mr. Data." The annoyance was back in the clipped voice.  
Sam swallowed. "Yes, sir, the, uh, scans of Zyros."  
"Tell him they were inconclusive," Al said after consulting the handlink, a calculator-sized machine composed of tiny, colorful cubes.  
"The scan was inconclusive," repeated Sam,  
"Inconclusive?" An eyebrow raised in annoyance.  
Al frantically checked the link. "Yeah. Tell him you would like to study it further in your quarters."  
Sam dutifully repeated Al's words.  
"Now request permission to leave the bridge," advised Al.  
"Permission granted," the captain responded to Sam's request.  
Sam got up from the station. Once his back was to the officers he cast a questioning glance at Al. Al stared back. "Huh? Oh! How to leave- -just a second." Al floated to the closed doors on the left side of the bridge. He poked his head through the one to the back. "Sam! This one's an elevator!" he beckoned.  
Sam walked to the doors, which promptly opened. Al floated in beside him. Once the doors closed Sam sank against the wall. "That was horrible! How the heck am I supposed to get to my quarters?" he asked.  
He jumped when a disembodied female voice responded. "Destination please."  
Sam looked at Al. Al shrugged, "Not quite as friendly as Ziggy, is she? Try the obvious."  
"Data's quarters," Sam said. The elevator obediently began to move.  
Sam turned to Al. "Where have you been?"  
"Trying to get information and find you. You think it was hard locating you in the Bermuda Triangle? That was nothing compared to this!" Al waved his cigar expansively. "Sam, you won't believe where, when, and who you are!"  
"I've got where down. I'm in space at some system called Zyros."  
The doors opened onto a corridor. Sam walked out. It was populated, so he let Al talk while he checked doors for Data's name.  
"Okay, Sam. You're on board the U.S.S. Enterprise, NCC-1701-D. She's a Galaxy-class starship. And is she a beauty! The captain's name is Picard. And get this--you're in the year 2335."  
Sam had just found his quarters. He dashed in, barely waiting for the doors to close before shouting, "2335! How did this happen? Al, this is the future! What can I possibly change here? Al," his eyes widened even more, "am I stuck here?"  
Al tried to calm his friend down. But he shared the same concerns. How could Ziggy predict the necessary changes in a timeline that, for them, hadn't happened yet?  
"Ziggy's running as many projection scenarios as she can. Gooshie's gathering every piece of current information. Hopefully your counterpart can give us some help."  
"But, Al. He can't give you information about the future. That would really disrupt things," argued Sam, albeit more calmly.  
"True, but he can tell us what their mission was supposed to be. Maybe you're here to do something he couldn't."  
"How can I do something he can't? He's been trained, specially chosen for service. He's obviously more prepared than I could ever be," reasoned Sam. He looked around Data's quarters for the first time. Shelves near the door showcased a violin and theater props. On a stand in the corner hung a Sherlock Holmes cape. Works of art in nearly every style imaginable leaned against the wall; an unfinished canvas sat on an easel. Sam walked towards a huge computer station behind the living area. "What can I do that he can't?" Sam repeated.  
"More than you know," said Al. "You haven't seen a mirror yet, have you?" he responded to Sam's questioning look. Al gestured toward a full- length mirror on the far wall.  
Sam stared in total disbelief at the reflection which greeted him. Gold-irised eyes widened in a pale gold-hued face. His hair, Sam noted with some relief, was brown. At least something's normal. "What? Why?" he choked out.  
Al regarded him with sympathy. He would have liked to touch his friend's shoulder in support and reassurance, but he was a hologram to Sam and had no substance.  
"You've Leaped into Lieutenant Commander Data. You're the second officer on the Enterprise. And. . . you're an android."  
  
******  
  
Counselor Deanna Troi walked down the corridor towards Data's quarters. She'd left the bridge ten minutes after Data, claiming an appointment. She didn't want to alarm anyone else on board, but something wasn't right about Data. She'd noticed it even before his odd behavior, her empathic senses picking up the sudden awareness of a consciousness not there before. Normally she could sense nothing from Data's positronic brain, incapable of producing emotions. But minutes before he sat at Ops, she'd felt confusion emanating from him. Then, before he'd left the bridge, she'd sensed the faintest glimmer of someone else, someone full of passion, their emotions close to the surface--but it was as if that someone were there and yet not. Troi knew the captain should be informed, but she wanted some answers first--and she would get them in any way necessary.  
Perhaps if she caught him by surprise she could find some answers. She reached Data's quarters and entered the always unlocked doors without touching the courtesy chime. She heard Data's voice from the work area, speaking as if in conversation with someone else.  
"Al, find out the specifics--every detail of the mission and give it to Ziggy." A pause. "I'll see what I can learn. And will you stop tormenting that poor cat?"  
Troi walked in to see Data looking down at his cat, Spot, who was chasing and pouncing on. . . nothing. She sensed apprehension and amused annoyance from Data, and a mix of concern and humor from someone not quite there.  
"Who's Al?" she asked, startling Data.  
"Al is. . ." he paused, glancing briefly to his left. "Al's my computer," he finished lamely.  
"Really," she said, her accented voice dripping sarcasm. She followed his glance, trying to focus her senses on the someone-who-wasn't- there. "Why is the computer tormenting Spot?"  
"Oh, it was making some obnoxious noise that she didn't like," offered Data.  
Troi folded her arms and looked at Data askance. "I don't believe you," she said.  
"You don't?" A quick glance behind her now, tinged with disapproval.  
"No. Why don't we both sit down and speak honestly." She led the way to a couch. If she expanded her senses to the limit, could she almost hear, in stereo, the words "oh, boy"?  
  
****** 


	4. Chapter 4

Sam dutifully followed Troi to the couch. He glanced at Al to make sure the hologram was by his side. More specifically, Al was by Deanna Troi's side, looking appreciatively and longingly at the way she filled out the tight uniform. He let out a sigh Sam was all too familiar with, the frustrated sigh bemoaning his holographic form. Troi's head abruptly swung towards Al, as though she had heard his sigh, startling both men.  
Troi focused her attention once again on Sam. "I know you're not Commander Data. What have you done with him?"  
Sam swallowed hard. "What makes you think I'm not Commander Data?" he returned.  
"Good, Sam," Al encouraged. "Make her answer the questions."  
Deanna Troi was willing and prepared for Sam's challenge.  
"First of all, the real Data never uses contractions, which you have used incessantly since I arrived."  
Sam and Al exchanged a worried glance. "Um, tell her it's an experimental program. You're supposed to be a machine, after all," Al suggested.  
Troi ignored Sam's excuse as she continued ticking off reasons on her fingers.  
"Secondly, you showed a great deal of hesitation when Captain Picard ordered you to your station. It seemed to me you didn't know who or where you were."  
Al shrugged helplessly at the stricken Sam.  
"And finally, I can sense you empathically--something I could never do with the real Data."  
The scientist in Sam overcame the front he had to maintain. "Sense empathically?" he repeated.  
Deanna nodded triumphantly--at least she'd proven he wasn't Data. "Piece of evidence number four," she smiled. "Data would know I'm half- Betazoid. That means I can sense emotions. For an emotionless android you're certainly feeling a great deal of anxiety."  
Sam stared at her in horror. He'd never been found out so quickly by an adult. What would she do now? He envisioned spending the rest of his life in the brig. Next to him, Al was staring at Troi with virtually the same thoughts tearing through his mind. As if she could sense the turmoil (which she can, thought Sam), Troi graced Sam with a reassuring smile.  
"I'm not going to harm you. I just want some answers. My name is Deanna Troi. I'm the Ship's Counselor. And you are?"  
"Sam, be careful," Al warned. Sam nodded in acknowledgment.  
"My name is Sam Beckett," he responded warily.  
"Hello, Sam," said Deanna with a soothing smile.  
"Sam, she's trying to get you to drop your guard so you'll spill your guts. Watch yourself. Remember, she's not only a shrink, she's an empath!" chastened Al. Troi's eyes flicked towards Al again. He abruptly pressed a button on the handlink and popped behind her. How was she locating him? This woman needed to be handled with caution.  
"Now tell me what happened to Commander Data," she continued.  
"I can't. All I can tell you is that he's safe," Sam answered.  
"Sam, in order to help you, I need you to help me. I promise I'm not going to turn you in. Your secret will be safe with me. How did you get here--in Data's body? And where is he?"  
Sam looked pleadingly at Al. "I don't know, buddy. Are you sure you can trust her?"  
"I don't have a choice, Al."  
"What?" asked Deanna. She glanced around the room again.  
"Counselor. Have you ever heard of a twentieth century experiment called Project Quantum Leap?" asked Sam. Al moved to Sam's shoulder in support.  
"No, should I have?"  
"No, but there may be an entry in your computer's historical banks. It was top-secret, so there probably won't be much."  
Troi crossed to the computer station. "Computer, search all files for any references to a Project Quantum Leap or a Sam Beckett." Within seconds the computer had a response.  
"There are six references to a Sam Beckett," said the electronic voice.  
"Cross-reference with Project Quantum Leap," said Troi.  
"Sam Beckett, born in 1953, a Nobel Prize winner and esteemed scientist. Dr. Beckett played an important role in Project Star Bright. He directed Project Quantum Leap, a top-secret project of the late twentieth century."  
"Stop," ordered Troi. "Details of Project Quantum Leap."  
"Reportedly, Quantum Leap was an experiment allowing one to travel through time. Dr. Sam Beckett disappeared in 1995, leaving his partner, Admiral Albert Calavicci, in charge of the project. Admiral Calavicci maintained the position that Dr. Beckett had succeeded in Leaping through time, and convinced the then-United States government to continue funding the project."  
"Damn straight!" interjected Al.  
"Well," said Troi, "at least I know you're telling the truth. Congratulations on the success of your experiment." Sam inclined his head in gratitude. Troi continued, "But you still haven't told me where Data is."  
Sam drew a deep breath. "Your Commander Data is in twentieth century New Mexico at Project Quantum Leap."  
Troi looked confused. "I can accept that, but I don't understand how."  
"I'll give you the Dick-and-Jane version." Sam winked at Al. He picked up a length of yarn Spot had discarded and stretched it between his fingers. "Okay. This string represents your lifetime. This end is your birth--the other, your death. Tie the ends together and you have a loop. Ball the loop up, and all the days of your life touch each other out of sequence. Thus, you can jump from one point to another within your own lifetime."  
"Fair enough," said Troi, "but you are beyond your lifetime--and in someone else's life."  
"That's where things went ca-ca," Al said, despite the fact that Deanna couldn't hear him--or could she? Once again the dark, curly head angled towards him.  
Sam grinned. "I don't really understand that myself. I Leap into someone else and they Leap to the Project. I do what needs to be done, and then Leap again--and that person Leaps back."  
Troi shook her head. "I'm almost sorry I asked."  
"You should be," Al scolded with mock-seriousness.  
Troi went on, unheeding of Al, "But how do you know what needs to be done?"  
Sam pointed to the ceiling, "He decides."  
"Sam, I really think now would be a good time to stop. Even though this is the future, I'm not sure she needs to know everything," Al said.  
Sam nodded, trying to ignore Deanna's questioning looks.  
Deanna accepted Sam's story--it had been substantiated by the computer, and she'd sensed no duplicity from him--merely caution, which she'd expected. However, she still was sensing echo emotions from the room, although she was finding it difficult to pinpoint their exact location. They kept moving around.  
"So once you complete whatever task God needs you to do, you'll. . . Leap. . . and Data will return?" she asked.  
Sam nodded.  
"Sam, I've got to get some more information for Ziggy. I'll be back as soon as I can," said Al. He opened the Door, and was gone in a holographic swoosh.  
Troi blinked at the sudden disappearance of the echo passions. She looked at Sam again. "You've mentioned--or should I say spoken to--an Al twice. This, I assume, would be the Admiral Calavicci referred to as your partner?"  
Sam responded affirmatively.  
"Does he Leap as well?" she asked.  
"No, he handles administrative duties."  
"Then how can you speak to him?"  
"Our brainwaves are linked, which allows him to center on my mesons and neurons." Sam looked out the window at the stars. "If it weren't for Al, I'd have no link with home. I'd be alone."  
Troi felt warmed by the wave of deep friendship emanating from Data. Sam, she corrected herself.  
"So, Al was in this room, so to speak," she asked.  
"Why do you say was?" Sam asked. His eyes widened at the realization. "You could sense him, too? Of course you could. . . the neural link."  
Troi nodded. "He's a very passionate man."  
"He certainly is," Sam agreed.  
Deanna sat at the computer station again. "May I?"  
Sam shrugged.  
"Computer, visual of Sam Beckett, please." The computer searched its banks and pulled up a picture of Sam. Troi looked from the hazel-eyed, brown-haired image to the man with Data's face standing before her and smiled. Sam nervously smiled back. Deanna turned back to the computer.  
"Computer, visual and references on Admiral Albert Calavicci."  
A photo of Al in his uniform flashed on the screen as the computer's voice resumed. "Albert Calavicci, Admiral, U.S. Navy. Former astronaut in the United States Space Program. Admiral Calavicci served in the Vietnam War of the 1960s and was reported Missing In Action in 1967. He was presumed dead until his release from a Prisoner of War camp in 1975. In the late 1980s, Admiral Calavicci became involved with Project Star Bright, where he developed an association with Dr. Sam Beckett. Admiral Calavicci accepted the position of Administrative Director to Project Quantum Leap."  
"Stop," said Troi. She smiled at Sam. "Quite a life your friend led." She sensed a sudden surge of sadness in Sam. "I'm sorry. Is something wrong?"  
Sam smiled wanly. "It's just that I realized. . . in this time, whenever Al goes back to the Project, he's. . . dead. I'm over 300 years in the future."  
  
****** 


	5. Chapter 5

Data sat in front of the mirror in the Waiting Room. He had tried to get Dr. Beeks to explain his exact location and circumstances, to no avail. For the past half-hour, no one had entered the room. The situation in which he found himself was truly unique. If he looked down, he saw the same physical characteristics he always saw. When he looked in the mirror, though, he saw an ordinary human being. With what he knew of human aesthetics, Data decided that the reflection would definitely be considered handsome. The solution to the puzzle of this dual vision eluded him, despite his efforts to devote the major part of his positronic brain to deciphering the mystery. Data had seen many strange things in his travels through the galaxy, but in all his travels, he'd always seen himself when he looked in the mirror. He had no idea who the strange face belonged to, and he could get no satisfactory answer from Dr. Beeks. He had just begun cycling over his theories again when the door opened. Data turned to see Al Calavicci walk in.  
"Hello, Al," greeted Data.  
Al smiled and waved. He seemed uncertain as to what action he should take next, biting his lower lip. Always eager to help, Data asked, "Is there anything I can assist you with?"  
Al scratched the back of his neck thoughtfully. "Actually, there is," he said. "First, I need to know what Verbeena has told you about your situation."  
"Nothing," Data answered. "She seems unwilling to impart any information."  
Al cast a sharp glance at the door. "I kinda figured that would be the case. Now when we have people from the past I can understand that, but what can you possibly change? You deserve to know the basics of your situation." He fixed Data with a serious gaze. "Okay, you know you're in the past. You're probably wondering how you got here." At Data's nod he continued, "You've gotten caught up in a time-travel experiment that went a little ca-ca."  
Data looked confused. "Ca-ca?" he repeated. He searched his memory banks. "Oh! Ca-ca, as in awry, amiss, wrong, messed-up. . . ."  
"I think you've got the basic idea," interrupted Al. "The experiment was for an Observer to Quantum Leap back in time to see history in a more accurate way than research. But something went wrong, and instead of Observing, he's been Leaping into the lives of others. When he arrives, they find themselves here, like you did. When he Leaps out, you'll be returned to your own time and place."  
"Al, why is he Leaping into lives if he was supposed to be Observing?"  
"Data, if I had an answer for that you wouldn't be here," Al smiled wryly.  
"I still do not understand how I see a reflection different from my own," Data said.  
"As far as we can tell, it's a resonant aura of the person whose place is taken. You're seeing Sam Beckett when you look in the mirror, and he's seeing you. Don't ask me how it works, because I really don't know. I can see you for who you really are because I'm linked to Sam. But others here who see you will see Sam Beckett. It's the same for Sam on your ship." Al paused. "I don't think I should tell you any more."  
"I understand," Data said. "We have had similar occasions on the Enterprise when we have inadvertently brought other species on board. We were quite limited in what information we could furnish them with." He smiled faintly at Al. "So when Sam Leaps out, I will reappear on the Enterprise?"  
Al nodded. "But for him to be able to Leap out, I need you to tell me exactly what your mission was, and what your scans revealed before Sam Leaped in."  
"Of course," Data replied. "We received transmissions from Zyros IV three standard weeks ago. Starfleet ordered us to make preliminary scans to determine the possibility of establishing first contact with the inhabitants. I was performing the last of my scans before our briefing when I found myself here."  
"Do you remember what the results of those scans were?" asked Al.  
"I remember every fact I am exposed to," answered Data. "The scans did not turn up any life-forms in the traditional sense of the word. Subsequent scans revealed that the planet consisted of 95.7 percent technological forms, seventy-five percent of which were capable of free movement, making Zyros IV a machine planet. This discovery comes as a remarkable and important one for the Federation, since only three other known planets are populated by machines alone. Their desire to make contact indicates their willingness to work with other intelligent life- forms. I was going to recommend that first contact be initiated with an Away Team, pursuant to the captain's and Starfleet's approval." Data lowered his eyes briefly. "Forgive me, I tend to babble."  
"No, not at all," said Al. "Every bit of that was vital." He looked toward the ceiling. "Get all that, Ziggy?"  
The computer's voice drifted down. "Of course, Admiral. I'm running it through my processors as we speak. I will transmit a copy of this directly to the handlink so that you'll be able to direct Dr. Beckett through it."  
"Thanks, Zig, you're a peach," said Al. "Any luck with the projection scenarios?"  
Ziggy sounded peeved. "It's quite difficult to project through a timeline that is over three hundred years long. I may be a powerful computer, but I'm not a psychic."  
"Oh, and here I was ready to start my own 900 number for you," Al said.  
Data's eyes widened. "That is a computer?" he asked. Al nodded as Ziggy answered affirmatively. "Perhaps I can be of added assistance," Data said. "For continuity's sake, I cannot offer any information about the future, but perhaps I could assist Ziggy in running projection scenarios. My positronic brain is capable of handling a series of tasks. If I were made familiar with the scenario program, I would be able to run it without endangering your future."  
Al looked up hopefully. "Well, Zig, what do you think?"  
Ziggy's voice regained its pleasant tone. "I think you should bring him down to the Control Room right away, Admiral, so we can get started!"  
  
******  
  
Al left Data and Ziggy to sort through the coordination of the scenario program under the supervision of Gooshie and Tina Martinez- O'Farrell, one of the Project's programmers. The fountain of technological babble was more than he was willing to sit through. Signaling to Gooshie, Al left the Control Room and walked into the Imaging Chamber. As he opened the holographic Door, Al braced himself for the change in environment as the Imaging Chamber holographically reproduced Sam's location. Sam was nervously walking down a corridor with Deanna Troi at his side.  
"Hi, Sam," Al grinned. "Boy, I wish I were in your shoes right now." He winked at the discomfited Sam. Al followed them as they entered a turbolift.  
"Al, it's about time! We're on our way to a briefing about the mission!" Sam tried to ignore Deanna's stare at his one-sided conversation.  
Al shook off the sensation of eeriness as Deanna turned in his direction and said, "Hello, Al."  
Al waved the hand holding his cigar before her face, narrowing his eyes as he watched for a reaction. "Sam, can she see me?"  
"No, she can only sense you. Will you stop worrying about that and help me?"  
"Relax, Sam, relax." Al held up the handlink. "Everything you need to say is right here. I've even got Ziggy setting up an audio link to Data through the Imaging Chamber so that he can offer any other information you might need."  
Sam's shoulders lost some of their tension. Deanna cast a curious glance on him. "Everything all right?" she asked.  
"Yes, Al got the information we need," he answered.  
"Good. Now remember," Deanna warned, "don't use any contractions. And try to stay as emotionless as possible." She briefly rested a hand on Sam's shoulder as the turbolift slowed its ascent. "Good luck," she murmured.  
The doors opened onto the Observation Lounge and a table full of Starfleet Officers. Sam resisted an urge to smile nervously and headed for the seat Deanna unobtrusively pulled out as she passed. Al followed, taking up a position directly behind Sam's chair. He lifted the handlink for easy access, preparing himself to pull up information at a moment's notice. Please let it behave, Al silently prayed. The handlink had a propensity for becoming erratic at the most inopportune times.  
Sam looked around the table. The captain had not yet arrived, the only empty chair at the head of the table must be reserved for him. Fortunately, before they had left Data's quarters, Deanna had ensured that Sam was familiar with name, rank, and position of every person seated around the table. He mentally went over each one in preparation. He had a photographic memory, but the Swiss-cheesing the Leaps produced in his memory made him cautious. The bearded man from the bridge was the First Officer, Commander Will Riker. The large alien being, whose race Sam had learned were known as Klingons, was Lieutenant Worf, Chief of Security. An African-American man whose eyes were covered by a band allowing his blind eyes to see (which reminded Sam of a barrette favored by Tina) was Lieutenant Commander Geordi LaForge, Chief of Engineering. Finally, a willowy redhead seated at the end of the table was Dr. Beverly Crusher, Chief Medical Officer. The officers were discussing a recent shore leave at a Starbase, and their affection for a game called Paresis' Squares. The informal tone came to an immediate halt when Captain Picard entered the room and took his seat.  
"Now, then," began the captain, "we're here to determine what action should be taken regarding the transmissions we received from Zyros IV. Our response will draw directly from Mr. Data's expert scans of the planet." He turned to Sam. "I trust your scans are no longer inconclusive."  
Sam straightened self-consciously in his chair. "That is correct," he said, striving to keep his tone as flat as possible. Deanna's expression told him he was overdoing it, so he tried to relax. Behind him he could hear the squeal of the handlink as Al slapped it to keep the information scrolling smoothly.  
"Okay, Sam. The audio link from the Imaging Chamber is up and running. Data can hear everything that goes on, and his responses will appear on the handlink," said Al. He began to read off the first piece of information for Sam to repeat.  
"The scan appeared inconclusive at first because it did not turn up any life-forms in the traditional sense of the word," Sam repeated. "However, subsequent scans revealed that 95.7 percent of the planet consisted of technological forms."  
"Ninety-five point seven?" repeated Riker. "That didn't show up on our earlier scans."  
Al slapped the handlink frantically. Sam was saved when Geordi spoke up. "True, but our earlier scans were completed a week ago, before we even arrived here. I've seen the results of Data's scan on the computer, and some of these forms appear to be mimicking natural landscape." LaForge pressed a control on the panel before him, causing a screen on the far wall to light up. The surface of the planet appeared. "From a superficial scan, this appears to be a cliff," he said. He pressed another control. "But, if we increase the magnification and account for electrical echoes, we see that it's really a mass of technology."  
"But who would want to create an environment that mimics natural landscape?" Riker pressed.  
"I think that's a question for Mr. Data," said Picard. Every head swiveled toward Sam.  
"That's your cue," said Al. He lifted the handlink and read, "Seventy-five percent of the technological forms on this planet have proved capable of independent movement." Al paused to allow Sam to repeat his words. "This indicates a strong possibility that Zyros IV is a machine planet."  
Worf snorted. "That is preposterous!"  
Picard graced Worf with an annoyed glare. "I'm sure Mr. Data has the probability charts to back up his claim."  
Al read off the handlink for Sam. "Data says that the probability is ninety-two point three four six that the population of Zyros IV is entirely mechanical. Jeez, between Ziggy and Data I'm getting more numbers than I ever wanted to see!"  
The officers seemed satisfied with Data's numbers. Dr. Crusher spoke next. "Do you realize the significance of this discovery for the Federation? Why the xenobiologists will have a field day studying this planet! Imagine! A planet entirely populated by machines, self-aware and intelligent machines."  
"Okay, Sam," said Al. "You need to jump in here. Remember, you're the one with the 'expert scans,' okay?" Once again he raised the handlink for the words to direct to Sam.  
"Indeed," Sam broke in, "the Federation only knows of three other such planets, and these only through deduction, not actual firsthand experience. The transmissions from Zyros IV indicate a desire to contact other intelligent life." The officers leaned forward expectantly. Sam waited for Al to continue supplying dialogue, but all he heard were muttered oaths as the Italian smacked the belligerent handlink. Sam leaned back uneasily. "Al," he whispered.  
"I'm trying, Sam." The handlink squealed loudly. "This stupid thing has gone on the fritz." Al slapped the small machine again. "Ah. . . ah, here we go," he crowed triumphantly as the final slap relit the handlink's colored cubes. "Okay, with the captain's indulgence, you need to recommend that contact be initiated, pending Starfleet's approval."  
"With your permission, sir," Sam said. At the captain's nod he continued, "I recommend that we initiate first contact with Zyros IV, pending Starfleet's approval."  
"Thank you, Mr. Data," said Picard. He glanced around the table. "Opinions? Objections?" He waited a few seconds. "Very well. Mr. Worf, please transmit a message to Starfleet, including the scans and the records of this briefing. Dismissed."  
The officers rose to leave, when Picard spoke again. "A moment please, Mr. Data."  
Sam turned back uncertainly as the room emptied. "Don't worry, I'm not leaving you, Sam," said Al. Sam nodded in appreciation. "Yes, sir?" he said.  
"Data, is there anything wrong? You haven't been yourself today," said Picard.  
"Sir?" Sam said as a delay tactic.  
"You guys picking this up?" Al said. He nodded at a response inaudible to Sam. "Okay, Sam," he said, looking down at the handlink. "No matter what he says, ask him if your duties have suffered, and assure him nothing's wrong. Data also says to promise to run a self-diagnostic. . . whatever the heck that's supposed to be."  
"Don't evade the question, Data." Picard refused to be sidetracked. "I can't quite put my finger on it, but you seem rather. . . distracted."  
"Distracted, sir?" Sam said. "Have my duties suffered?"  
"No, not in the least. Still. . ."  
"Now," Al prompted.  
"Yes, I will run a self-diagnostic, sir," Sam offered.  
Picard waved his hand in acknowledgment, "Very good. That's all." Sam turned to go when Picard called out again, "Oh, Mr. Data. I would very much like for you to be a part of the Away Team if Starfleet approves our decision."  
"Yes, sir," Sam nodded. He left the Observation Lounge before Picard could call out to him again. "Al, what am I going to do if I'm still here when they go to that planet?"  
Al shook his head. "You might not even be here then. Don't beg trouble."  
"Well, did you find out what I'm here to do?"  
"Uh, no. But Ziggy and Data are working as fast as they can." Al shrugged off Sam's outraged glare. "Well, they're trying to go through 300 years which haven't happened yet. And Data can't let Ziggy in on a lot of it."  
Sam opened his mouth when he heard someone calling in the corridor behind him. "Data! Wait up!" Sam turned to see Geordi LaForge jogging to catch up.  
"Hey, Data! I thought we were going to Ten-Forward at 1400 hours," said Geordi.  
"Remember, Sam. No contractions," said Al.  
"Yes, of course. I was," Sam paused to think of a word suitable of Data, "detained by the captain."  
"Well, you're free now. C'mon," Geordi pulled Sam toward a turbolift.  
"I'm going back to see how the projections are going," Al said. "Relax," he added. "I'll be back as soon as I can."  
Sam looked decidedly uneasy as the turbolift doors closed and Al disappeared. It was all he could do not to jump when Geordi clapped a hand on his shoulder.  
"So, off the hook for awhile. The ball's in Starfleet's court now."  
Sam nodded, unsure of what to say. The opening of the turbolift doors spared him from further conversation. They stepped out to walk to Ten-Forward. Giggles drifted down the corridor toward them, stopping when two kindergartners ran into the two men.  
"Hey, slow down," Geordi said.  
"Are you all right?" Sam asked.  
The children stared at Sam. "Who's that, Mr. LaForge?" one of them asked.  
"What do you mean who's that? You know Commander Data."  
They shook their heads emphatically. "No, it's not. It's some man," the first one said.  
"Yeah, he kinda looks like Al's daddy," agreed the other.  
Sam couldn't help staring at that. The children's chaperone ran down the hall, apologizing profusely. Geordi laughed and led the way to Ten- Forward. "Kids have the craziest imaginations," he said.  
  
****** 


	6. Chapter 6

Al's jaw dropped as he saw Data seated near Ziggy with a piece of his head missing. The discarded scalp lay in his lap, allowing Al to see the glittering circuitry which filled the android's head. "Doesn't that hurt?" he asked.  
Data couldn't move his head because he had run a cable to one of Ziggy's ports, but he slid his eyes toward Al. "Not at all," he said.  
Al shook his head in wonder. "So, how're the projections coming?"  
"We've just hit the second half of the twenty-first century," Ziggy said.  
"That's all?"  
"Well, it would go quicker if I could examine the future-history. But that would disrupt our future. As it is, all I'm able to do is to cycle and tabulate the dates. Data's handling the events. We're working as fast as we can, Admiral," the computer said in an annoyed tone.  
"I know, Ziggy. I'm just worried about Sam," Al said. If you'd told me ten years ago that I'd be apologizing to a computer, I'd never have believed you.  
  
******  
  
Sam stood nervously in what the crew had called the Transporter Room. The captain had reconvened a briefing an hour after he and Geordi had gone to Ten-Forward. Sam had actually enjoyed himself in the spacious lounge. The starfield provided some relaxation, once Sam convinced himself that there really wasn't anywhere for him to fall. His fear of heights could resurface unexpectedly, as he could attest from the Leap when he'd suddenly remembered he had such a phobia--while hanging upside down from a trapeze swing. Thank God for nets. And for Al, who'd coached him through the harrowing experience.  
He looked around the room again. He didn't see any way out of it apart from the door through which he'd entered the room. Starfleet had approved their request to contact the planet. Picard had had Worf send a message petitioning the Zyrosians to allow an Away Team to beam down. Sam still wasn't sure what beaming down was, just that it would be the means to get them from the ship to the planet. Riker walked into the room and the three other officers waiting with Sam stepped onto a large round platform which filled the room. Sam hesitated for a moment before stepping onto the platform himself. Somehow it reminded him of the Quantum Leap Accelerator. Would this contraption cause him to Leap as the Accelerator had?  
Riker signaled to the technician who stood behind a panel facing the platform. The technician pressed a few keys, then slid his hand over a section of the panel. A bright blue light shined down on Sam and he felt his body beginning to dissolve. Leaping was nothing like this! Leaping into someone else's life didn't eradicate his body! AL!!!!!! he screamed mentally.  
Seconds later, Sam felt his body reform, but they were no longer on the platform. The Away Team, consisting of himself, Riker, Worf, Troi, and LaForge, now stood at the foot of a shining metallic hill. So that was beaming down, Sam thought. It was not an experience he looked forward to repeating. Troi looked at him with concern. He gave her a small smile to reassure her (and himself) that he was fine, then turned his attention to the metallic hill before them.  
This planet definitely mimicked natural landscape. Hills, trees, even mountains spread to the horizon, but each piece of scenery glittered with mechanism. The Away Team stared in amazement at the panorama. Geordi spoke first. "There isn't an ounce of organic material anywhere." The band he wore, called a VISOR, allowed him to see in many spectrums.  
"Are you sure?" Riker said. "Data, double check that."  
Sam hesitated a moment too long in his uncertainty.  
"Data? Double check the readings," Riker repeated.  
Troi pointed to the small machine in a pouch of Sam's uniform. He reached for it, opening the hinge. It's almost like the handlink. He didn't understand how the little machine worked, though. Deanna quickly performed the scan on her tricorder, nodding at Sam when it was completed.  
"Correct, sir," Sam said. "There are no organics on the planet." Remembering that Data was a very literal, er, machine, he added, "Excluding the Away Team, of course."  
"Of course," Riker echoed with a smile. "This is incredible! An entirely inorganic planet."  
"But why mimic a natural landscape with machinery?" LaForge asked.  
"I expect we'll find the answer up there," Riker pointed to the top of the hill. "Let's go."  
The Away Team started up the steep hill, the slick surface making the climb difficult. Sam nearly slid back down when they reached the top. "Al," he was startled into saying. The hologram was waiting patiently. Al grinned at Sam, his smile disappearing when Worf walked through him. Al turned to watch the Klingon walk away. "Ugh," he shivered. "That is one ugly. . . whatever it is." He looked at Deanna. "Now her on the other hand." Sam gave him an exasperated look.  
Riker pointed toward a rectangular building forty yards away. "There's the meeting place," he said.  
"Phasers on stun, sir?" Worf asked.  
"This is a peaceful meeting, Worf. Keep your phaser holstered," Riker ordered. He led the way toward the building. The walls glittered in the sunlight.  
Deanna stayed back by Sam as the other three men walked off. "Al's here?" she asked. At Sam's nod, she said, "Take your time, I'll walk ahead so they don't notice you talking."  
Sam slowly walked forward, keeping one eye on the group. "Ziggy completed the projections."  
"No, Sam, they haven't finished yet. At this point they've just made it to the twenty-third century," Al said.  
"Then how am I going to know what I'm supposed to do if Ziggy can't run up the odds?" Sam demanded.  
"That's why I'm here," Al said. Sam looked at him skeptically. "No, really. I'm your second set of eyes, your devil's advocate, your. . ." he stopped. "I've definitely been talking to that android too much."  
They finally caught up with rest of the Away Team at the entrance. "Ready?" Riker said.  
"No, but thanks for asking," Al cracked, although only Sam could hear him.  
The foyer opened up into a shining rotunda, with hallways branching off in each compass direction. The glittering walls were patterned with a circuitry-like design. The light shining down from far above changed color periodically, bathing the room in shades of pink and blue.  
"I thought we were supposed to meet here," Geordi said.  
"We were," agreed Riker. "Are you picking up anyone's approach?"  
Worf looked down at his tricorder. "Negative, sir."  
"Well, where are they?"  
As if in answer to Riker's question, the floor shook and shot upward. It traveled sixty feet in two seconds before coming to a halt. From below Sam could hear Al yelling, "Gooshie! Center me on Sam!" A split-second later the hologram appeared next to him. "That must have been a kick in the butt," Al said. Only one hall led from the floor's new location. Riker nodded toward it and the Away Team started down. A whirring noise emanated from a portal at the end of the corridor. Worf made an abortive reach for his phaser.  
"This way, please," boomed an electronic voice. A row of lights near the ceiling suddenly came to life, running from the Away Team's position to the opening at the end of the hall.  
A room full of living machines waited for them. Four of the six-foot beings sat at two tables. Their anatomy consisted of four tentacle-like limbs and two legs. The central machine was gold, while the others were shades of copper and silver. It was the owner of the booming voice, and the leader of the planet. It looked at the members of the Away Team and stood.  
"Welcome to Zyros," it intoned. "We are pleased to connect with other intelligent life. Please, sit and converse with us."  
Riker spoke for the group, "We are honored." They each took a place at the table, facing the machines. "Allow me to introduce our party," Riker continued. "I am Will Riker, this is Deanna Troi, Worf, Geordi LaForge, and Data." He introduced each member in turn. The machines introduced themselves as well. The gold one was called Pyrlin. It introduced its subordinates as Trahl, Gerndt, and Suyft.  
Pyrlin resumed its seat. "We are gratified that you responded so quickly to our messages. After our astronomer-specialists determined the presence of ion trails, which suggested the existence of other intelligent life, capable of space travel, we decided it would be only logical to contact such beings." It waved a tentacle toward the closest silver machine. "Suyft deduced the most logical message to attract only the truest of intelligent life. Your response indicates the accuracy of its attempt."  
"We appreciate your confidence in us," Deanna said with a smile.  
The machines drew back abruptly at her expression. The whirring became louder. "What was that you did with your facial component?" demanded Pyrlin.  
"You mean the smile?" Troi asked. "It just shows that I'm happy."  
"Happy?" Pyrlin asked. "I do not understand what you are talking about."  
"It expresses a feeling. An emotion," Troi explained. The machines looked at one another in confusion and distrust.  
"Sam, I don't like the looks of this," Al said.  
Trahl stood up. "You are not behaving logically. You speak of irrational things. Emotions are not logical. Only logical beings are truly intelligent."  
Pyrlin nodded. It waved a tentacle over a light set in the table's surface. Bands slid across the Away Team's laps, trapping them in their chairs.  
"What's the meaning of this?" Riker asked in an annoyed tone.  
"Listen to that inflection," Gerndt commented. "Irrational, entirely irrational. They are not intelligent life. We have been fooled."  
Pyrlin shook its head. "Not yet," it stated. "We will scan their compositions to determine if they are malfunctioning." A purple light enveloped each member of the Away Team. The table beeped. Pyrlin looked down. "Organic! These four are organic! They are not intelligent. Only mechanisms possess true intelligence. These must be destroyed before their organic compositions contaminate the environment."  
Riker spoke indignantly, "You can't do that."  
"Well, if you'd listened to Prune Face you wouldn't be in this situation," Al berated the Starfleet officer, who was deaf to his words. He addressed the equally unhearing machines. "What about Sam?"  
Sam was wondering the same thing. He'd been excluded from the fate of the others, and no alternative fate had been projected for him. Then he remembered who he had Leaped into. Data was a machine, an inorganic life form. Surely he'd be accepted as a "truly intelligent" being. But what of the Starfleet officers?  
Pyrlin directed a tentacle toward Sam. "This one may be welcomed into our community. This one is mechanical. This one is truly intelligent. It will be the one to whom we will offer friendship." It waved to a line of platinum machines in the back of the room. "Take the organic ones and destroy them before their irrational emotions contaminate our planet."  
"Wait!" Sam shouted. All the machines froze. The Away Team stared at him in utter confusion.  
"Sam, what are you doing?" Al asked. "I hope you have a plan."  
"Why have you interfered with my instructions?" Pyrlin asked.  
"You have determined that I am truly intelligent," Sam said. Pyrlin nodded. "And you agree that I am suitable to remain here and become a part of your community as a truly intelligent mechanical life form."  
"That is correct," Pyrlin said.  
"Why have these others been declared not intelligent?" Sam asked.  
"They are organic. Organic forms are not intelligent."  
"But you were willing to contact them before you knew they were organic," Sam reasoned.  
"I see where you're heading, Sam," Al said. "I hope it works."  
Pyrlin hesitated before answering. Sam took advantage of the pause. "You accepted them as intelligent before your scans revealed their organic composition, didn't you? What does that say about your own intelligence?" Silence. Sam spoke again. "What makes their behavior irrational?"  
"They rely on emotions, not logic," Gerndt argued. "That comes from their organic derivation."  
"Nonsense," Sam snorted. Every occupant of the room stared at him. "I ask you again, am I truly intelligent and rational?"  
"Yes," Pyrlin said. "Because you are a machine."  
"If I can prove to you that a machine can behave in the same manner as organic life, will you let them go?"  
"Yes," Pyrlin agreed. "But you will not be able to do that. Machines are intelligent and logical."  
"Al," Sam said, ignoring the Away Team's shocked looks, "I need you to give me your best joke."  
"What?" Al practically dropped his cigar. "A joke? You've got to be kidding me!"  
"I couldn't be more serious."  
Geordi groaned, "No, not one of Data's jokes." Troi shushed him.  
Pyrlin spoke, "Please proceed with your demonstration."  
"Very well," said Sam. "You say that emotions prove irrationality, and that machines are incapable of behaving irrationally. I will demonstrate for you the rationality of emotions, as a rational machine." He took a deep breath. "Okay, Al."  
"All right, but I'm not sure this is such a good idea." Al shrugged. "What the heck. It went over well at the Christmas party." He began to tell the joke, pausing to allow Sam to repeat the lines. "Okay, one day this man walks home from the market with a wheel of cheese on his shoulder. It started to get heavy so he stopped at the top of a hill to lean against a tree. He set the cheese down, but it rolled away from him and down the hill. He watched it roll away, and to his horror it hit a Mexican who was taking his siesta at the bottom of the hill, and woke him up. He picked up the cheese and said, 'Cheese from Heaven.' He ran straight home with it and called to his wife. 'Honey! Come quick. I've got cheese from Heaven, and we've got to make nachos with it!' 'Nachos, cheese from Heaven. . . what are you talking about?' So he told her the story about the cheese waking him up from his siesta, and how it had come from the sky. 'But why do we need to make nachos?' she asked. 'Because, as I picked up the heavenly cheese and ran off with it, a voice called down from the skies, "Nacho cheese! Nacho cheese!"'"  
Despite their predicament, the Away Team couldn't help smiling at the joke. Sam himself couldn't stifle his chuckles, having had the benefit of hearing Al tell the joke simultaneously. The machines stared incredulously, as did the Enterprise officers.  
"Well?" Sam demanded.  
Pyrlin inclined its head. "Very well, you have proven your point. However, your irrationality is too corruptive to our community. We will let you go, only you must promise to leave immediately."  
"Great, Sam! It worked!" cheered Al.  
"Agreed," said Riker. "But you must also agree to delay your desire for contact until you can develop a better way of dealing with those life forms that do not fit your personal criteria."  
Pyrlin once again bowed its head. It waved its tentacle over the table, releasing the Away Team's bonds. "This machine has given us a glimpse of what may lay ahead for us. Perhaps one day both our people will come to understand the other. On that day, we will contact you again."  
Riker nodded. He tapped the stylized insignia on his uniform. "Riker to Enterprise. Beam up the Away Team."  
Oh, no, thought Sam in the split second before the beam took hold of him.  
  
****** 


	7. Chapter 7

Will Riker sat in Ten-Forward with Geordi and Deanna. "I just don't understand it," he said. "How was he able to do it?"  
"I know," said Geordi. "I've never heard him deliver a joke perfectly before."  
"And that laugh. And speaking to someone who wasn't there? It just doesn't add up. Data doesn't act like that."  
"You're absolutely right," said Deanna.  
"Then how was he able to behave so. . . so. . . humanly?" asked Riker.  
"Simple," Deanna answered. "It wasn't Data."  
  
******  
  
"So the projections weren't even necessary," said Al. "You see, I was right in the first place. You were here to do something the real Data couldn't."  
Sam nodded at Al from his place on the couch, where he was petting the android's cat. "You were right." He smiled at his friend. "I'm sorry I doubted you."  
Al strolled around Data's quarters. He stopped and stared out one of the windows. "Can you imagine being able to see this every day?"  
"Yes, and it's frightening," Sam answered. "Why haven't I Leaped?"  
The door chime sounded. "Come in," Sam called.  
Deanna Troi walked into the room. "Hello, Sam, Al," she said.  
"How does she do that? It's really kind of creepy," Al said.  
"Hi, can I do anything for you?"  
She looked embarrassed. "Actually, you can," she said. "I've never been able to meet a Nobel Prize winner from the past before. And since you're still here." She sheepishly held out a photograph of Sam. "Would you autograph this for me?"  
Sam exchanged a shocked and amused look with Al as he took the proffered photo and pen. "Thanks," she said.  
"You're very welcome. Thanks for all your help," Sam said. He handed her back the photo.  
"You know, I'm going to miss you when you Leap," Deanna said.  
Sam smiled.  
"I'll miss you, too," said Al. He looked her up and down again.  
"I'm sure you will," Deanna said.  
Sam laughed at Al's surprised face. And Leaped. 


End file.
